


In The Words of Marquis de Sade

by DramatistArtisan



Category: Fable (Video Games), Fable 2 (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Loss of Virginity, afab sparrow, more tags later on, most of these characters are mentioned, not over how reaver's wiki said he read de sade, sadistic thoughts from reaver at times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-02-28 15:05:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18758866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramatistArtisan/pseuds/DramatistArtisan
Summary: One can only understand virtue if one understands vice.(summary wip)





	1. Heroic Knight meets a Pirate

_ “In order to know virtue, we must first acquaint ourselves with vice.” _

_ \-  _ _ Marquis de Sade _

 

In order for one to see themselves as virtuous one must have indulged in vices, to understate what is like to be stained with the ink of Darkness. Reaver knew all that there is about vice, about every sadistic pleasure a man who lived for so far two hundred years can dev themselves in. Reaver loved it, he felt alive while escaping a bothersome nightmare. Sexual desire is ones that he favors the most beside killing a person from say an awe shocking distance. Sex is what stimulates the economy of Bloodstone, his slice of a deplorable paradise full of those kicked out of Westcliff after a rather large investment changed it to a likely soon town rivaling Bowerstone. Their lost, his gain. Those like him basking in the all the vices life can offer, all the vices their short lives can take. Meanwhile, he watches and joins though often starts the parties to begin the weeks (once a month) worth of sin anyone can take. Reaver can take a lot.   
Currently, though he has been in no mood for such parties after whispers that turned into talks of a person who dares trumps his own fame in his  **_own town_ ** . He wanted to see this person; curious about the talk of the town especially the whores he would bed when he needs a good stress relief. One slipped out the name of this infamous person just before he was about to cum. During sex…. With HIM! It ruined the mood for his entire day he swears after he killed the man he was supposed to be having fun with. Damn heroes and their ability to gain worshippers so quickly.

Ironically, he found himself nearly admiring the hero called  _ Sparrow _ , a bird that flew into his home in the armor of a knight of old. No, they really did walk into his home wearing knight armor that looked freshly cleaned.   
“Well, aren’t you one for theatrics,” Eyes shifting then wandering down the body of the hero, it hides so much including that damn helmet. “But how can I know you are the hero who displays a statue of themselves on my port, hm?” He is very much bitter about that. Not because it is a statue of them not him, but for the fact, the stonework is absolutely wonderful! He will have to track down that person later. The room goes quiet with only the echoing sound of the chisel hitting the stone. Reaver gestures for the helmet to be removed before returning to his pose.   
Brown eyes study the hero’s face; in seeing the feminine face revealed to him with a mess of large reddish-brown curls, nearly the same colors of that of bird they are name after. Ah, there is the hero who is the talk of the town; the one who rejects the Bloodstone prostitutes yet still gives them coin, slayer scammers (yes, he knows about Toby’s death. Can’t say he didn’t see that one coming), founder of the lost Marie Anne (and killer of the ghost of a Captain he slew mine you).

Aren’t usually heroes old men or something old?

Sparrow is far from old, Void, Reaver might dare say this hero is just growing into their twenties?! Has the world become so desperate is takes kids to save Albion, funny.

When he-- When Reed was a child all tales of heroes spoke of seasoned old people who died either later on happily married and nonsense or died in battle.

They aren't talkative like most heroes too.

Quiet like a church mouse, ah yes a pure mouse in his tainted unholy sanctum.

Bloodstone soaked in the sin and murder just like him, full of very vice a person can this of; vices he heard this little holy heroic knight rejects. Reaver got to hear an earful of that from one of the whores during a recent party, she felt so rejected yet thrilled to take on a challenge.

Reaver will be taking that challenge first. See it can grow boring when everyone is tainted in every possible way. No new thrill that he hasn't already done in his two hundred years worth of life, yet, he believes-- Knows this Sparrow who watches him so curiously waiting for something to be said.

They must be mute, lovely.

“Well, hello there,” Playful greeting the hero. “Always a nice surprise to have company-- I Don't get many visitors in my little coastal paradise.” Sounding so sad as if he cared about such things; people come to him when he wants it. With the exception of the little bird. “Especially one that might  _ redefine _ a man’s concept of  **_paradise_ ** .” He can only imagine the beauty the lays beneath all that armor.

They squirm, blush as they rub the back of their neck awkwardly. Dear old Gods, he can see why the prostitutes like teasing the hero, they are simply adorable.

“And a brilliant conversationalist.” Selectively mute? “I look forward to hours stimulating  _ pillow talk _ .” If they even know what that means or implies. “Now you must be looking for someone,” A nod in response is given. Yes, selectively mute it is! Reaver can do all the talking for both of them, his voice is rather lovely he knows. “But who else could it be but me!”

Sparrow wishes they could just snatch him in a bag and leave. They don't say anything, not like it seems this Reaver will allow them that chance. He does have a rather eerily nice voice as if drawing you to an early grave. Siren-like yes that's it.

He continues posing as he goes on, “A celebrity of your statue must is bound to seek out fellow luminaries after all.” He delights in how they perk up also as if destroying whatever supposed speech to help save Albion they were cooking up in that head of theirs. If they can speak. “Oh, come, come.” Sparrow frowns at his gleeful expression. They didn't account for this to happen. The fame they gained was used just to get his attention, to use it as a ‘fellow the mighty hero’ tactic. Guess that isn't happening. “You didn't think anyone could escape Lucien's Spire and prance around my  _ kingdom  _ unnoticed, did you?”

A head shake. They weren't hiding that fact especially those bards that like sing about them so much sung about their daring escape with Garth.

“I even know why you're here,” Reaver is loving this focus attention on him right now. “No doubt you heard about my astonishing abilities and expect me to join some half-cock mission to take Lucien down.” He scoffs sounding uninterested in playing a hero. Here comes someone opposite of him, one of virtuous nature seeking him out for a selfless deed. He wanted to laugh if this person did not appear unwilling to give up so easily. He can use that to his advantage. “How am I doing so far?”

He gets a ‘meh’ in reply. Rather rude! Eyes roll in their response, “But here's the problem: you've done all sorts of impressive things,” He will not deny them that. Reaver got to see them take on the Crucible and score perfect across the board, an impressive sight that nearly had him cheering them on. He blames the crowds' energy. “Yet, you haven't done anything that benefits me.”

Sparrow was waiting for that to come in: the price for the thief because nothing can be easy nor free. Not as if they knew what he wanted besides needing to be on everyone's lips to get his attention.

“But wait. Perhaps there is something you can do for  **_me_ ** .” For heroes always help people in need no matter who they are and this hero needs him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little fun during the quest Hero of Skill

_“Conversation, like certain portions of the anatomy, always runs more smoothly when lubricated.”_

_― Marquis de Sade_

 

Self-preservation is not an act Reaver had thought heroes had a concept of yet here is the buzz of the town, Sparrow, standing before him in perfectly good health. It is surprising in some way considering all the talk about how selfless this hero is saving stupidly helpless people, so quick to put themselves in harm way to rescue those stupid people. Honestly, Reaver had expected to gain the hero’s youth and vitality, not the other sacrifice he sent in as a precautionary measure. Still, he got what he needed and more with his betrayal. Yes, everything will end with him on top.

Until it didn’t.

Lucien’s betrayal is all shapes is rude. _Him,_ out of all people! Not to mention Reaver was literally handing Sparrow to the old bastard on a silver platter! A hero who broke out of the Spire with Lucien’s prisoner-- Gath or something another his name is. Agh, the trying flicked nature of power hungry men is such a bother. Now-- After shooting that annoying Barnum-- he has to escape with the bloody hero, who had the audacity to chuckle when his crony reported the Spire soldiers invading Bloodstone. Reaver swears to get Lucien's heart for that. Now he must flee with his new (temporary) partner in his rear passage. They follow without him even having to shout or demand they hurry up. Once down in the tunnels, Reaver cannot help reminiscing on the last time he used this escape tunnel.   
The smell of the damp, cool air reminds him of so long ago when he first found this little treasure. “Smugglers built these tunnels ages ago,” Sparrow looks at him while he moves to pass them (mindful for the snarling dog. It looks like some hellhound if he knew any better) to lead onward. “I don’t think they have been used for about 300 years.” He touches one of the barrels as he stops for a moment, Sparrow goes behind it to open a chest to take the contents inside. They surely much realize they outright stole from _him,_ right in front of _him._  Ugh, commoners. It better be useful for him too. Wait didn’t he put that there when… “Oh no, wait a minute now: I came through here in…” So many old memories to shuffle through. “That’s right: I was consorting with Ursula at the time and Penelope found out,” That woman was the jealous selfish type of lover. “And set the house on fire while I was sleeping.”

Their gasp is so soft he almost missed it had not been for the echoing walls of the cellar around them; adorable how easily invested they appear to be in his little tale.

“With Andrew, as I recall.” Passing through the open bookshelf into a small narrow tunnel. Sparrow had not expected the-- Well, they have heard a man speak about the wild nights in Reaver’s manor as well as how he was able to sleep with him. Guess it wasn’t a lie.

“Hmm.” Is Sparrow’s reply as they move to not stand so close to Reaver nor trip on any of the rocks. They do not like enclosed spaces, never have nor ever will; they really hated caves for that. Why couldn’t it have been a large escape route similar to a field or anything but this?! No matter how many caves or tunnels they have crawled into, walked out or blew their way out of it still scared them to be enclosed in small spaces. No matter how short the distance is to the other side it felt like an eternity. Sparrow sucked in a breath, their dog nudging its head against their leg to keep them walking forward, such a good dog. Sparrow can smell metal in the air as they get closer to the end of the narrow part of the passage.

Reaver is unphased while Sparrow is on edge, tense as they walk; the man walking as if this is a stroll through the park. “Ah, that would have been 200 hundred years ago.” One to never hide his immortality. As a Pirate: those who followed him saw him as a _God_ , something almighty that grants them lucky and good fortune on the high sea. Those who served him (those alive) eagerly talk one’s ear off about the amount of loot they’ve gotten on those raids. He glances behind him once he can see the entrance into the mining cavern, studying how the little hero is wobbling as if out of breath until they are behind him. “I do hope you aren’t afraid of tight spaces, birdy.” Mocking? Very much mocking the hero for such a silly fear. The unnatural blue eyes glare up at him silently cursing him for his rudeness. Jerk is what Sparrow calls him in their head. “Aw, no need for such a look: After all, I am saving you.” Leaning slightly forward into their personal space, the hand on his hip moves to brush away the dirt fell onto their jacket. Lords of Shadows, he can smell Wraithmarsh on them not that it covers the scent of leather and sweet perfume on them. Quite a mix, if he said so himself.

A pause is between them before Sparrow glance down at the hand remaining on their shoulder. It takes a second to register how close, and tall, Reaver is to them. They nod pulling away from him, gloved covered fingers not in any way hinder the feeling of his hand. The dog is getting in the way of Reaver standing close to Sparrow, shoving his way between them. Meanwhile, Sparrow panicked at the touch of another. Damn ten years of isolation really messed them up. Maneuvering to be in front of Reaver and the dog, an explosion stops them unexpectedly; hand grabbing onto the edge of the cavern entrance.

_“Lucien is using Great Shards to transport hundreds of men to Bloodstone.”_ The sound of Theresa’s voice is just what Sparrow needed: **_Focus on the mission._**   _“The town is overrun.”_ So they will have to rebuild this place later after the fight, great. _“You have to keep going and find another way out.”_ Survive as they have been always since this quest of vengeance started.

Sneaking behind the large mining equipment they peak through the side staring up at the Spire guards spilling out of the hole created by the explosion.

Metal and wood slip out of a leather holster, Reaver shoves himself with grace against the large mining equipment besides the hero, “Lucien’s men, here?! Well so much for a pleasurable romp through the labyrinth.” Scowling at these interlopers.

Sparrow couldn't really believe Reaver wanted to actually ‘romp’ in here, right?!

Reaver has ‘romp’ in worse places so it wouldn't far fetch to convince the hero to mess around for a few minutes.

He hums at sight of them pulling out a rather unique looking rifle reading themselves for a shot.

Aw, his hero.

Reaver doesn't allow them to get any shots, what gentleman would he be if unable to display his skills to an audience like the one beside him. The hero evaluating him when should be the other way around. He wants to see what is all abuzz about this little bird.

“Lucien must have known about these tunnels. And I thought I'd been quite clever and secretive. How irksome.”

A note Sparrow makes to themselves: Anything that doesn't go Reaver's way is irksome. Honestly, how is this man a hero, much less the Hero of Skill they need? Yes, he appears to an excellent shot based on five dead Spire soldiers, but so are they! They were doubting him. They shoved him by the lower half of his back to keep walking so he can stop showing off. The narcissistic jerk.

“Rather forward aren’t you?” Teasing them as he leads on. Who could resist him? He is glorious, an Adonis of this world that can live forever. Everyone either wants him or wants to be him! Why else would they have touched him so low or wearing such a lovely outfit? Leather, for it, is the quiet sweet ones that are into leather and bondage. Their jacket open enough to show off a corset. The black ballroom mask very much solidifies that theory. And those dark red lips, red that reminds him of gunpowder mixed with blood. A lovely, perfect, color on them.

Reaver partly regrets not to get them into his bed before sending them off to run his errand. Ah, well. There will likely be the next opportunity.

Sparrow was focusing on getting either the high ground or getting out fast. Both options provide an out to this damn cavern. Another shake of the ground as both of them both wobbling to regain their footing. Sparrow grabbing Reaver to hold them steady; his cloak feels soft. A second of gripping is followed by the richest brat boy voice, “Careful!” If he kept his mouth shut Sparrow might like him; they let go scoffing at him.

A new batch of Spire soldiers and the hero is ready to just summon a lightning storm on them but knows better than to waste a large amount of energy to cast Will early into a fight.

“How many men does he have down here?” Reaver voicing both their displeasure, “They’re positively oozing of the stonework.”

It's true, Sparrow knows as long as the Great Shard is active Lucien will keep sending soldiers and Commandants into Bloodstone. Damn old kingdom technology! Their eyes look for a weak point while dodging bullets, Reaver’s self-preserving attitude is a good distraction as he shoots them down. “You aren't going to make me do all the work, hero? I am after all the person **_you_ **need.” Another glare sent his way before they use a fireball to cause the weak wooden railway track to collapse with the rest of soldiers into the abyss. “Clever you.” Twirling the pistol in his hand.

A thumb up is given. The dog scouts ahead keeping to the shadows as per its training. Reaver follows his little hero. “Is your dog useful besides smelling up the area?” Commenting as he hears the shots of pistols going off. The dog returns back to its owner quickly. The little hellhound looking mutt smelled like wet dog and seemed to just be a useless tag alone.

Sparrow made a motion for Reaver to shut his mouth.

“Touchè, however my question still stands.”

**Author's Note:**

> Un-betaed so rip  
> my first fable fanfic and my first attempt to write out the character Reaver. So wish me luck lol


End file.
